


Diplomatic Immunity

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Marvel Polyship Bingo, Multi, OT4, Polyamory, Scis and Spies, diplomatic immunity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: AU. In their cozy Portugal home, Hunter comes home from dealing with a determined burglar to find two of his lovers are having a spat. According to the rules of the house, it's his job to help them get along.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 22
Kudos: 36
Collections: Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020





	Diplomatic Immunity

**Author's Note:**

> _a/n: A Scis & Spies fic written for @clementinewhy as a thank you for her work on a marvelous banner, from the 2020 Marvel Polyship Bingo prompt "diplomatic immunity"_

Hunter walked into raised voices followed by slamming doors. He dropped his pack on the floor as he kicked his shoes off and looked at Bobbi, who shrugged. “Fitz-Simmons having a tiff?” he asked.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what it’s even over, something with the exponent on…um…string theory is involved.”

Hunter groaned. “Not what I want to hear when I had to stay late at work.”

Bobbi came over and kissed his forehead before gathering him into a hug. Hunter slumped against her, glad to be home. She smelled of dish soap and love. When they’d been disavowed, left in Russia with nothing, it’d seemed impossible they’d even survive, let alone find their way to a little bungalow in Portugal with the beach not too far away. Hunter ran security for a server farm, and Bobbi worked part-time serving drinks at a local tourist trap. Life had slowly developed a normal, and they didn’t talk about the two scientist-shaped holes in their lives. When they’d opened the door a year later to find Fitz and Jemma huddled on their doorstep, broken and saying they were done with SHIELD, Hunter and Bobbi had welcomed them with open arms.

Life had gotten good.

Jemma and Fitz did consulting work for businesses with deep pockets, and the bungalow was now nicely furnished, but there were always groceries to buy, and food for four people didn’t come cheap. So Hunter still went to work, though his entire record of stopping break-ins constituted of two cats and one very determined squirrel.

He hated that squirrel, but not as much as coming home to find two of his lovers rowing over math.

Hunter sighed and twisted a lock of Bobbi’s sun-bleached hair around his fingers. “Since I wasn’t here, I supposed I’m the one with diplomatic immunity and need to go sort this out.”

Diplomatic immunity had been Jemma’s idea. Four people who were always bloody certain they were right needed rules when it came to resolving issues. So when there was a two-person argument, whoever wasn’t in the house at the time got diplomatic immunity. There were other rules, like yellow cards where any one of them could step into a situation and say they thought it was leading to the argument. Or his favorite, pleading the fifth, when he didn’t want questions about how he’d mucked up and just needed to fix whatever he’d made a hash of.

“Good luck,” Bobbi said, pecking him. “They really went off this time.”

“Can I use sex as a reward if I get them talking?” he asked.

Bobbi grinned. “Please, they’ve been working all day on this…whatever it is. and it’s gotten lonely.”

“I’ll let you know when we get there,” he said, squeezing her hand before heading towards the back of the house. Only two doors were closed, the one to the home office-slash-lab Fitz-Simmons worked out of, and the one to the bedroom.

Jemma probably wouldn’t give up, which meant Fitz would be the one in the bedroom sulking. He’d be the easier of the two to deal with. If Hunter made puppy-dog eyes Fitz would come around. It added up to Hunter needing to talk to Jemma first.

He knocked on the door to the lab and opened it to find Jemma hunched over a laptop, jabbing at the touchscreen. “What?” she snapped.

“Nice to see you too,” Hunter said, voice mild.

Jemma whipped around. Her entire body deflated before she launched herself in a flurry of lab coat at him. Hunter caught her as she broke into sobs. “S-s-sorry,” she mumbled out. “I…does Fitz hate me now?”

“Talking to you first,” Hunter said while stroking her hair. It hung long and wavy down her back, and he wanted to nuzzle into the heavy mass. “But I can assure you the bloke who hunted you down on another planet hasn’t stopped loving you because you bickered about something.”

“He just won’t listen when I say—”

“None of that,” Hunter chided and Jemma, tears gone now, pushed back to look up at him with a pout. “Diplomatic immunity, remember? I’m not taking sides. Don’t ruddy care about what you were fighting over. And you—” He tapped a finger to the end of her nose—“know that’s not true and that Fitz not agreeing with you isn’t him not listening to you.”

Jemma’s lower lip crept out further.

“You two need to strip the problem down to brass tacks and work it back up to this point of contention, but do it tomorrow, eh? I’m tired and mostly I want a shag and lights off.”

“Stop being reasonable,” she grumbled.

“I’m going to be even more reasonable now. Go give Bobbi some snuggling. She told me it’s been a long, lonely day with you two holed up in here. And if you birds take your tops off, you know Fitz will probably forget why you were arguing in the first place.”

Jemma gave him a withering look before hurried towards the kitchen and Bobbi.

One down.

Hunter inhaled deeply and strode to the bedroom. He walked in without knocking. Fitz must have sat on the edge of their custom bed before collapsing back to stare at the ceiling. His hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in forty different directions. His close-cropped beard even looked untamed, as if Fitz had fretted his fingers through both.

“Does she hate me?” he asked in a tiny voice.

Oh dear lord, could they not have the same damn insecurities for Hunter to deal with?

“Don’t start with that crock of shite,” Hunter said, sitting beside Fitz. “You know she loves you something fierce like you do her. She asked me the same bloody thing.”

Instead of being the reassurance Hunter had thought saying that would be, Fitz expression became stricken. “She thought I didn’t love her anymore? Over an argument about a physics problem?”

Hunter dragged his hands down his face. Diplomatic immunity was so much fun. He lay down beside Fitz and fisted his boyfriend’s shirt. Fitz yelped as Hunter rolled him until they were facing each other. “I’m trying to tell you that you and Jemma share the same neurosis. For people that consider bickering foreplay, when it actually becomes a real fight you both freak out that somehow you’ll never resolve it. Tomorrow you and Jemma can fix the math, but right now I’m tired, I had a sandwich out of a vending machine for dinner, and all I wanted was to come home, get my rocks off, and fall asleep. Instead, I’m yelling at the man I love because he’s an idiot.”

Fitz’s eyes were wide. He lurched forward and his mouth met Hunter’s. That was much better. He sank into it, the taste of Fitz, the prickle of his beard under Hunter’s fingers, their bodies tilting towards each other, the soft noises their mouths made. Work had been long, the damn squirrel had been evasive—again—and Hunter had wanted nothing so much as the comforts of home.

And Fitz, Hunter had wanted Fitz. Not that he didn’t want Bobbi and Jemma, but unlike Fitz, who was always very into all kinds of body parts at all times, Hunter’s sexuality seemed to move in waves. One week all he wanted was to have his face in the girls’ tits and his hands grabbing the flare of their hips, or it’d swing like it was now, where he wanted wide shoulder, body hair, and a cock to play with.

Hunter got Fitz’s shirt untucked and slid his hands up Fitz’s torso, playing with one flat nipple he found. Fitz’s hips jerked forward and Hunter eagerly ground their erections together, glorying in the feel as Fitz moaned.

They were all a bit different in how they expressed their bisexuality, and Hunter loved them all the more for it. Jemma probably had a schedule, to ensure she was always a perfect three on the scale. Bobbi flirted with calling herself pan, as she really fell for the person rather than any specific sexual characteristic. It made Hunter feel special she’d chosen him as one of her people.

The door to the bedroom opened and Bobbi walked in, pulling Jemma along behind her. Both were naked and a little breathless, hair mussed and lips kiss-swollen.

“See,” Bobbi said. “Told you they’d be making out.”

“I don’t remember saying they wouldn’t be.” Jemma’s lips pulled down as she and Fitz glanced at each other before snapping their eyes to opposite corners of the room.

Damn it.

Hunter had too much blood in his cock to try and smooth any more ruffled feathers. “You two,” he growled. “Right, new definition of diplomatic immunity where I get to tell you what to do. And I want you both to fuck me.”

Fitz looked at Jemma again. Their brows furrowed as they appeared to have an entire conversation with their eyes, but finally they both nodded once.

Thank god that had worked.

Bobbi stretched out beside Hunter as Fitz wrestled off his clothes and Jemma nabbed supplies from a drawer. Bobbi drew a finger down Hunter’s cheek. “You sure you feel like both?”

How did she always know everything about him? Including which way his internal wind blew, though at the moment he really just wanted all his lovers happy. “Yeah, I’m good.” He kissed her fingertip. “What about you? I don’t want you to feel left out.”

“You know I like watching and getting fingered.”

He laughed. “Alright then.” Bobbi pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him in just his trousers. Hunter rolled over towards Fitz, who lay naked on the bed while sliding his hand up and down his shaft. Scooting down, Hunter knocked Fitz’s hand away and settled his mouth over Fitz’s prick. All bloody day he’d been thinking of that musky, salty taste. His cock throbbed in his shorts, aching and needy.

The bed dipped as Jemma returned. Hunter glanced up to find her lip-locked with Bobbi, but Fitz tugged at his hair and he returned to eagerly sucking Fitz’s prick.

“What do you want us to do?” Jemma asked breathlessly between kisses. Hunter could feel Bobbi’s pleasure at being asked.

“Well—” A pause accompanied by more soft snogging noises and a whimper from Jemma. “Hunter wants to continue his diplomatic immunity. You know those ‘get along shirt’ where a parent has two kids in one large t-shirt?”

“Yeah,” Fitz said, voice hoarse.

“Hunter can be your get-along-Hunter.”

He let go of Fitz’s cock and looked at Bobbi. Jemma sucked one of Bobbi’s nipples while Bobbi stroked Jemma’s dark hair. “How’s that going to work?”

“It starts with you taking your pants off.” Bobbi raised a brow.

Rolling to his back, Hunter shucked trousers and shorts while Bob directed Fitz and Jemma into position. Fitz stood at the end of the bed, and once Hunter lay naked, he grabbed Hunter’s ankles and hauled him down until Hunter’s arse was barely still on the mattress.

“Yes,” he hissed as Fitz pushed his legs apart roughly. Fitz already had a condom on—bless Bobbi—and grabbed lube that he dribbled over his prick and then down the crack of Hunter’s arse. Need clenched hard in Hunter’s belly.

“Fingers?” Fitz asked.

Hunter shook his head. “Just go for it, mate.”

Fitz pressed the head of his cock against Hunter’s anus, and then in. The burn made Hunter hiss, but it quickly dulled to the wonderful, delicious pain-pleasure he’d been craving. He kept his knees wide, bracing the balls of his feet on the bed as Fitz slowly fucked him.

“Now Jemma,” Bobbi said, her eyes meeting Hunter’s gaze.

“Please,” he rasped. He very much wanted his hard-as-nails prick being attended to.

Bobbi held Jemma’s hand as she straddled Hunter’s middle. Her arse was right there, soft and round, and he grabbed a handful, abruptly finding himself desperate to get inside her. His little Jemma, who was so proper and brilliant. Damn, he was bi. Very bi.

Fitz’s rough hands slathered Hunter’s cock with lube. Jemma often needed a little extra. Being used to Bobbi who gushed at the drop of the hat, Hunter had thought he’d been doing something wrong the first time he’d slid a finger between her legs and found her still dry. She’d shrugged, told him her body just worked like that and it had very little to do with arousal, and handed him a lube bottle. Now it was part of their routine, part of what made them _them_. 

Fitz held Hunter’s cock in place as Jemma slid down onto it, her body warm and welcoming. She braced herself with a hand on Fitz’s shoulder. His eyes predictably dropped to her tits. It always tickled Hunter that a certified genius could be rendered a fumbling mess by a nice rack. Jemma and Bobbi had very nice racks, but Fitz no longer tripped over his own feet getting to the girls, usually.

Hunter grasped Jemma’s hips, helping her find a rhythm as the three of them moved together.

Fitz-Simmons made dopey eyes at each other and leaned in, their lips meeting. Just like that, everything was back to being right in Hunter’s world.

Though was no way he was going to last long, not with the way Fitz was thrusting and how Jemma was riding him.

Hunter reached for Bobbi.

She kneeled beside him, bending down and kissing him, her golden hair falling around them. She guided his fingers between her slick folds and he rubbed how he knew she liked it, circles that encompassed more than just the top of her clit.

Bobbi moaned as she kissed him. Hunter felt boneless, adrift in the pleasure and love. No other worries besides making the people he loved most feel good. He’d take care of them. All of them.

With a flick of her neck, Bobbi tossed her hair to one side and he could see Fitz-Simmons again, as well as feel them. Jemma’s puss had started tightening, and she rode him hard, her arse flexing with each gyration. Fitz’s hair was a complete mess from Jemma’s fingers and sweat beaded at his temples.

Jemma’s head dropped back, and Fitz kissed her throat. Bobbi braced herself on one hand as she undulated against Hunter’s fingers. Her other hand played with her breast, plucking at the nipple.

“Oh,” Jemma said, her thighs quivering against Hunter’s. Fitz grunted and thrust harder like it was his cock in Jemma, which would have made Hunter laugh if he wasn’t fighting not to spend as Jemma came with a tiny, breathless, mew of pleasure. Her pussy pulsed hard, milking Hunter, and when Fitz shifted slightly and started raggedly hitting just the right spot, Hunter gave up the fight.

He moaned loudly as his prick bucked inside Jemma, filling her with his release.

Jemma cupped Fitz’s cheeks and kissed him wildly as Hunter slumped back against the bed, the continued thrusting sending little aftershocks of bliss through him. Bobbi gasped and came, her juices coating his fingers. After petting her through the orgasm, he brought his fingers to his mouth to lick.

Fitz moaned and came with a loud groan. His prick pulsed and Hunter sighed in enjoyment, then winced as Fitz pulled out.

Hunter wiggled back up to his pillow. His knees creaked as he stretched out his cramped legs. Bobbi laughed as she settled between him and the outside edge of the bed. She slept there because she had a tendency to get hot, always ending up right at the edge of the mattress with no blanket, except for the one foot she kept against Hunter’s leg like a ship’s mooring rope. Fitz and Jemma switched spots beside him frequently, taking turns sleeping beside him. Not picking one place and sticking with it would drive him around the bend. He has his place in the bed. It was his. With his pillow. Which was why they probably changed, to let him keep his place while acknowledging his preference for who cuddled under his arm changed.

He rubbed at his eyes. The young man, barely more than a boy, he’d been who’d shivered alone in his army barracks wouldn’t believe it if someone told him that he’d end up in a seaside town in Portugal, raging against the local fauna and spending nights cozied up with his three lovers.

Paradise, that’s what he had.

Fitz crawled into bed, yawning, and Hunter lifted his arm so Fitz could snuggle against him. Jemma spooned Fitz from the back. One of her feet found Hunter’s, and her toes were icy. He squirmed, but Fitz held him still. “She’s got one on me too,” he mumbled. “They warm up. Thermodynamics and all that.”

“If I’m frozen solid in the morning, I’m blaming you,” Hunter murmured in response. Fitz made a very Scottish sound that was neither agreement or disagreement and held Hunter a little tighter. Possibly to prevent frostbite. But it all felt right. Jemma’s toes were always cold, Bobbi was always a furnace, Fitz liked to cuddle, and right now Fitz against Hunter, sleepy and relaxed, was exactly what he needed.

“Diplomatic immunity,” Bobbi said as she clicked the light off.

“What?” Jemma asked.

“I’m claiming diplomatic immunity from Jemma toes.”

Jemma scoffed. “Not how that works.”

“It does if I say it does.”

“She has a point,” Hunter said. Jemma moved and pressed both her blasted chilly feet against him.

Fitz made a contented noise. “I’m Switzerland in this.”

“You’re full of Swiss people?”

Fitz snorted but didn’t reply.

“Did you get your squirrel today?” Jemma asked.

Hunter groaned. “No. I’m started to think the bastard has diplomatic immunity.”


End file.
